Chapter Three
Logan
The bright sign saidThe Grande Belezza, my target stop for the day. It was time to scope out my next potential client, Mia Moretti, CEO of Moretti Hotels.
I liked to handle high-profile clients myself. I had a team of five who worked for me as skilled life coaches. My company, Inspired, had a one hundred percent success rate. The number one rule to working with a client was, they had to want it. Truly, deep down in their soul, they wanted change. Everyone said they wanted to change, to be better. But, until they had the desire to make the switch to happiness, they wouldn’t. Everyone knew how to lose weight. Everyone could look up steps to alleviate depression, go to a therapist, or a doctor. But people wouldn’t.
I’d learned a long time ago that people liked being miserable, that it was easier than facing the truth inside themselves. Facing those demons and patterns that held them hostage.
Hopefully, Mia fell into the first category of someone who truly wanted change. Her answers to the questionnaire in the documents sent to my place this morning were those of a desperate woman. I would see what she was all about and if she was a good fit for the Inspired program.
The male valet took one look at my old purple Jeep and frowned before opening my door and then grasping the keys.
“Don’t get too attached now. Oh, and she gets a little tricky in second gear.” I winked at the man and turned toward the entrance of the very upscale hotel.
“Oh, hell yes,” I heard the valet moan at the purr of the engine. He pushed on the gas pedal of my feisty Jeep and then sped off.
She might not be much to look at, but the insides made the package worth it. I’d be fighting that man off my vehicle when it was time to go.
“Excuse me. Can I help you, sir?” A woman in a standard concierge uniform and heels approached me with an unreadable look on her perfectly applied makeup-covered face. Not a single blonde hair was out of place on her round head.
“Yes. I am here to see Mia Moretti. We have a business meeting.”
The woman looked me up and down—something I got a lot from the opposite sex.
One, I looked like a surfer god—or so I’d been told. Blond hair, tan skin, blue eyes. There was that wildness women like this one saw in me—a promise of a great one-night stand, but not someone they’d settle down with. Fine with me. I was not in the market for a wife again.
The other reason I got this typical once-over by people was because my chosen style was indeed laid-back. Not the type that screamed successful or businessman. My program didn’t rely on business attire, such as suits or dress shirts. Most of the time, that particular set of tools only intimidated people, which was the last thing I wanted to do. I needed people to feel comfortable around me.
“Right this way, Mr. …” She turned to lead me toward the elevator but stopped, wanting my name.
“Logan.”
“Mr. Logan.”
I was surprised a sneer didn’t grace her lips as she said my name. Her mask of indifference was on point—perfect lady to play poker with. But my job was reading people. I could tell she thought I was nothing more than dirt under her polished shoe.
I prayed Mia Moretti would be more interesting than this broad.
The elevator music was nice as we rode up to the ninth floor, out of the fifteen.Interesting.Businessmen I knew wanted their office at the top. King-of-the-world type of mind-set. Maybe a woman on top cared about something else.
The ninth floor was home to quite a few offices, as I’d found out in passing by. But then we came to a stop in front of a beautiful set of rustic barn doors with a secretary sitting out front.
“Mr. Howard. I have here a Mr. Logan who says he has a meeting with Ms. Moretti. I’ll leave him with you now.” The woman turned and left without another word. Very professional.
“She’s kinda scary sometimes.” The man, Mr. Howard, watched the woman walk away before she made a sharp turn out of sight. He shivered out of his thoughts and looked up at me from his neat desk. “Sorry. I’m Jay Howard, executive assistant to Ms. Moretti. We don’t have you on the schedule, but since Linda brought you all the way up here instead of calling, I’ll just check with Mia to see if she was expecting you and forgot to mention it.” The brown-haired man gave me a sympathetic smile and went about dialing four digits on his desk phone.
His words held no shock that she might have forgotten an appointment with me, not that I had one. I liked to surprise my potential clients; it helped me read them better. She must have been forgetful lately. Intriguing.
“Mr. Logan is here to see you. Says you have an appointment.” His eyes met mine, trying to see if there was any sign pinned on me, giving him a hint as to what company I was from.
“I’m from Inspired. She’ll know what that is.”
Two seconds later, he was hanging up the phone, standing up from his seat, and walking me toward those rustic doors.
“Good luck,” Jay whispered as he held one door open.
I skirted past him into a very open room, which had all but one curtain drawn.
